


Atlantis

by h3ad_and_h3art



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bellarke, F/M, More angst, alternate season 4, apocalypse 2.0, canon AU, canonverse, cause apparently that's all i'm capable of writing, did i mention ANGST ????, slowburn, underwater ark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h3ad_and_h3art/pseuds/h3ad_and_h3art
Summary: Immediately following ALIE's cold reveal that they only have six short months to survive before the world burns, Clarke and Bellamy fight for one last chance to save their people. The solution takes them to new unexplored depths as they search, together, for what it means to truly be alive.(This fic diverts from canon post Season 3 by exploring an alternative solution to the radiation than the events of Season 4. An exploration of what could have been, if you will.)~ ~ ~“Bellamy?” she asked, staring through the cracks in the leaves up into the now fully dark sky. Tiny pinpricks of light peered through the darkness above: the stars.“Yeah?”“Can you pretend for a moment that the world isn’t ending?”She felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly in her hair. “Okay, Clarke,” he responded, and she could hear the contained laugh in his voice.“I just want to pretend for a moment that all of this … pain never happened.” She said quietly. “For one night, I want to pretend that things aren’t terrible, that they’re how they’re supposed to be. I want to be a girl being held by a boy, sitting under a tree on Earth and staring up at the stars. At least for a little while.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm so excited to finally be posting this chapter for you.
> 
> This idea came to me about nine months ago, prior to Season 4, but life happened and I didn't get the chance to actually complete the first part until recently. While we are well into Season 4 by now, I have tried to remain as uninfluenced by the knowledge about the season as much as possible and have done my best to produce an original plot surrounding the apocalypse 2.0 with this fic.
> 
> Some info about the format of this fic: I enjoy writing long chapters because I find that they are a lot more rewarding for my readers so, as a result, this first chapter is roughly 18k. As a result, this fic will have less chapters than many longer works (I haven't landed on an exact number just), but they will be lengthier.
> 
> With that disclaimer out of the way, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

In the end, it was Octavia who figured out how to get down from the Polis tower.

During the moments following Pike’s murder, she was no longer one girl, but a storm cloud. No one wanted to meet her, to question her – everyone stepped out of her way. And, as a result, not one person tried to stop her when she unraveled the coil of rope she stole from one of the storage closets, tied it to a questionably secure door-handle and belayed herself all the way to the ground, never looking back or hesitating once.

Bellamy did not witness any of this happen; it was merely what people told him afterwards. In the seconds that came after Octavia’s dramatic exit, his world came to a halt. Bellamy was trapped underwater. Visions played before him in slow-motion, movements seemed heavy, languid - like if he tried to run, his feet would catch on the muddy ocean floor. Sound ceased to exist, the only senses left behind bleary sight and the feeling of unshakeable cold. His insides felt like they had dropped fifty degrees, replaced by an icy core and the building of dread in his stomach. Air was stripped from his lungs, and Bellamy wondered whether this was what drowning felt like. He was sinking, and the only thing keeping him afloat was his own guilt and the knowledge that this was his fault.

_Live. Breathe. Suffer._

After all, wasn’t that his last remaining duty? Bellamy failed his first. Octavia was gone. Barely a remnant of the starry-eyed girl that grew up under the floor remained, instead replaced by a red-hot ember intent on burning everything and everyone that it could touch. And it was Bellamy’s fault.

He failed.

Clarke touched Bellamy’s arm and pulled him to shore. He snapped out of his paralysis, senses rushing back to him in a shockwave. The clock accelerated and the room was suddenly a frenzy of movement, a cacophony of noise. The sound of whimpering and sobbing and cries of pain filled Bellamy’s ears and he took a moment to stare at his surroundings. Injured littered the throne room floor, visions of broken limbs and the colour red staining articles of clothing, skin, the floor.

Bellamy couldn’t stop coming back to the red.

It painted skin and dyed clothing, stained the tile. Most people curled up in their own spaces, clutching at wounds and crying out in either pain or sorrow – probably both. But some people were silent, their eyes wide and haunted, staring at the fresh body added to the pile of fallen. Bellamy couldn’t look away.

It hadn’t taken long for Pike to die. Bellamy watched the flicker of understanding appear in his eyes before being quickly sucked away into the deep, leaving behind the cold lifeless expression of the dead that Bellamy was all too familiar with. It was difficult to imagine that the bold, charismatic leader from Farm station would never utter another word again. But, as guilty as it made him, Bellamy knew this feeling of despair was not for the death of Pike; he was mourning his sister.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, her voice breaking slightly, and Bellamy was reminded of her touch on his forearm. She held his arm close to her, leaning into him slightly. The space between her eyebrows was creased, an expression Bellamy was used to seeing on Clarke by now. Concern. Or dread.

In this case, it was both.

Bellamy rejected the temptation to crumple right then and there, at the foot of the commander’s throne. If he did, he knew Clarke would hold him, but he also knew he didn’t deserve that. Hadn’t for a long time. And this wasn’t about just him. Scattered around the room, he and Clarke were surrounded by the wounded. His suffering would never be worth as much as theirs, so he shook off Clarke’s grip, hating himself for it as much as he hated the cold feeling on his skin where Clarke’s hand used to be.

“I’m fine.” His voice sounded lifeless and robotic. “There are people who need help.”

He started to move away from Clarke, ignoring the frustrated sound of his name that emerged from her lips. Before he could move very far, however, Clarke was standing in front of him, her hands on his chest and her eyes staring into his with fierce determination.

“ _Please_ ,” she pleaded. “You push people away when these things happen – because you think it’s your fault. Don’t push me away now - after everything.”

Bellamy forced himself to meet Clarke’s eyes and felt the walls of stone he’d built up in the past few minutes crumbling. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was weak. Clarke could take down his defenses with just a few words and he was at her mercy. Clarke stared back at him, searching his face. Her hands felt like they were burning through his jacket, his flesh blazing. Gently, he reached his hands out to cover hers and slowly pulled them away, but didn’t let go.

“Later,” he told her, “we can talk about it. But now, I – I _need_ to be doing something else. I can’t do this right now.”  

Clarke looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she clenched her jaw and nodded once, slightly, before squeezing his hand. “Don’t forget that you’re not alone, Bellamy.” With that, their hands parted and Bellamy watched her rush over to a few people lying on the floor – a middle-aged man and a woman who looked to be his wife, judging from the way she was holding him. He was nursing what looked like a stab wound on his abdomen. Clarke started attending to him right away.

The circumstances were less than ideal, but it was good to see Clarke exercising her role as a healer again. It was reassuring to Bellamy that, even after all they’d been through, some things never changed. Some parts of Clarke from the early days on the ground remained intact; who she was at her core – the courageous leader, the compassionate healer, the girl who never gave up – hadn’t left her.

Realizing this now, as Bellamy caught glimpses of Clarke rushing among the crowd, flashes of her blonde hair entering his periphery here and there, Bellamy knew he had to keep fighting: for her. If he had to rip out his own heart and feed it to the wolves just to ensure her survival, he would do it.

She was all he had left.

~ ~ ~

It took hours to get everyone in good enough shape to start moving back down to the ground. However many people Clarke helped, it seemed that more surfaced. Someone revealed a dislocated shoulder resulting from being body slammed into the ground … others ran up to her crying about a gash in their leg they had not felt due to the shock of returning from the City of Light. Everyone needed help, and Clarke felt sick knowing that even if she treated them now, there was nothing she could do about the fate awaiting them in six months.

Clarke attempted to swallow the lump building in her throat, but it was no use. Instead it served as a burning reminder of all that she failed to do. The City of Light was destroyed, yes, but so was their chance to finally live in peace.

 _But it wouldn’t be real_ , Clarke reasoned with herself. _It was all a lie_.

It didn’t make her feel much better.

What she really needed was to talk to Bellamy. Over the past months, he’d become her closest confidante, the person she would trust with her life, and also the one she needed most. Except Bellamy seemed scattered. Clarke saw the light drain out of his eyes as he watched Octavia march out of the throne room. In that moment, he appeared to have lost the ability to breathe. He blamed himself for what Octavia had done – Clarke knew him well enough to recognize that. Clarke just wished she could find some way to prove to him that it wasn’t true.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Bellamy appeared by her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. Clarke was seated on the tiled floor, having deliberately picked a place not tainted with blood, her legs sprawled out in front of her as she toyed with a piece of ripped gauze. The room was almost entirely cleared out – by now, everyone was heading to the commander’s quarters, the one room that was their best bet of finding a way to the ground; that is, unless you were crazy enough to attempt climbing down from one of the windows still covered in grease. One man had already done that. They didn’t hear his screams as he fell, although it was still unclear whether that was due to the way sound carried or simply because he was willingly accepting the peace of death. Clarke didn’t like to think about it. It only reminded her that if the City of Light weren’t gone, that man may have endured a kinder fate.

“Clarke?”

Clarke looked up at Bellamy, but the sight made her heart ache. His eyes were tired, his face still bloody from whatever fights he’d jumped into while she was in the City of Light. But further than that, Clarke saw an agony that ran deep into his soul, a pain she’d been recognizing for a long time. It only became clearer to Clarke as each moment passed, Octavia’s exit just another tragedy to pile on top of all the others that had been weighing Bellamy down since long before she even met him. Clarke bit her lip and looked down to worry at the edges of the piece of gauze in her hand. Bellamy sat down beside her.

“The others are trying to figure out a way to put together a more secure rope-system to the ground,” he told her emotionlessly. His voice revealed nothing, but his face was an unraveling map that led straight to his heart.

Clarke could tell that his feelings were waging a war inside of him; on the one hand, he looked like he was about to snap and throw himself over the edge of the tower just to get to Octavia. On the other, he appeared to be restraining himself, trying to convince himself of all the reasons that he shouldn’t go after his sister. For now, the second side won out. Clarke dropped the gauze in her lap and finally acknowledged Bellamy.

“It will take hours to get everyone out of here with their injuries – maybe days before we make it back to Arkadia.” Clarke swallowed. Arkadia - where their friends were waiting. How was she supposed to explain to them that their peace wasn’t real after all, and that they were still trapped in a never-ending cycle of unbeatable obstacles and eternal pain? She sucked in a breath. It came out shaky.

Ignoring Bellamy’s look of concern, Clarke gathered herself enough to force herself to stand, brushing the dust off her pants. “We should join them,” she told him hastily, waving away protests before they reached his lips. “Later,” she said. “Right? We’ll talk about it later.” Bellamy shut his mouth and clenched his jaw, finally standing up to join her.

Every single one of Clarke’s limbs felt weak and flimsy, as though she were a paper doll come to life. Her muscles ached, and the place where Ontari’s blood had been pumped into her system burned. The last few hours completely drained her of any energy she had left, and it felt like each step took an eternity. The world started to tilt as she pushed herself forward, the edges of her vision slanting as though she were viewing the world through a distorted lens she’d only ever read about in history class. When she reached the wall, Clarke leaned forward to press her forehead against the smooth surface and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

Before long, she felt a hand on her back and Bellamy’s voice in her ear. “Clarke, are you all right?”

_I haven’t been all right for a year and a half._

“I’m just dizzy,” she replied, her voice sounding airy and removed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Clarke, you just had a blood transfusion a few hours ago. You look like you’re about to faint.” He paused for a moment. “Are you going to be okay to get down?”

That was a thought. Clarke pulled away from the wall, a wave of nausea coming with the movement. As it was, she could barely walk without collapsing. Clarke stared at the line of people preparing to start propelling themselves down the side of the tower. How was she supposed to do the same without losing the strength in her arms and tumbling onto the asphalt below?

Bellamy was right. Clarke’s chances of getting out of this tower within the next twenty-four hours were looking slimmer and slimmer.

Clarke just shook her head and leaned her head against the wall, facing Bellamy. He was now frowning slightly and looking at the floor. After a moment, he reached his arm out to wrap around her waist. Clarke accepted the hold gratefully, leaning into his side for support as he directed them into the hallway to get to the commander’s quarters. Each movement left her nauseous and disoriented, but Bellamy keeping her steady helped her put one foot in front of the other.

When they reached Lexa’s previous quarters, Clarke saw a mass of people growing around the open balcony that was their only hope to escape. There were more people scattered in various places around the room and in the hall, but Bellamy efficiently navigated the two of them to the front so they could see what was going on. Half a dozen men held a rope in their hands and were slowly, carefully releasing more of it every few seconds. Following the rope with her eyes, Clarke saw that the end of it was tied to Lexa’s bed post. The sight of the bed made her chest clench tight, but she forced herself to look away – there were other matters at hand.

The other end of the rope was hanging over the balcony. Clarke got onto her tiptoes so she could peer over the ledge. About halfway down the building someone was slowly lowering themselves to the ground, peering over their shoulder and kicking off the wall when necessary. The girl beside Clarke’s face was as white as a sheet. She had a purple bruise below one eye and her arm was in a sling made from somebody’s t-shirt. She was staring over the edge of the tower with a look that would make one think she were staring into the face of the person she feared most, the space between her eyebrows had a neat little crease and her teeth dug into her lips so hard Clarke worried she would draw blood.

The girl turned to look at Clarke, who realized she must have noticed her staring, and said, “He’s my best friend. I can’t go on without him.” Clarke opened her mouth to speak but the girl had already turned away from the crowd and rushed to sit in a corner, burying her head in her hands. She was secretly grateful; Clarke didn’t know that she would be able to convince this girl that everything would be okay, when it so obviously would not.

Bellamy managed to push their way to the front so they could get a better look at what was unfolding below. Someone had appeared to have put together a harness of sorts that was attached to a sturdy looking rope. By now, the man had almost reached the bottom of the tower, looking so small that they could only just see a tiny image of him.

The man closest to the edge of the tower’s head suddenly jerked down to look at the rope in his hand; he shook it once slightly and looked over his shoulder at the girl that had rushed away from Clarke earlier. “Eh, Arabella?” he grinning crookedly. “He made it.” The girl appeared ten years younger, all lines of worry wiped clean from her face, and as she breathed a sigh of release the man who talked earlier nodded to Clarke – who was beside him now – and said, “You’re next.”

Clarke glanced down the side of the tower and felt herself pale. She had no gauge as to how high in the sky they were, but she did know that there was no way she would make it down by herself. Her limbs were jittery, her head still faint; if she moved too much, Clarke knew she wouldn’t be able to stay up much longer. Accepting the rope the man was now handing her would be like signing her own death sentence. Judging by the way Bellamy’s arm tightened protectively around her, he was thinking the same thing.

“She’s sick,” Bellamy told him, “she’ll probably pass out on the way down if she goes by herself.”

The man sighed. “Look, she can either go now or go last. People are waiting and I don’t wanna be here any longer than I have to.” Clarke turned to look over her shoulder and saw that the man was right: a line was forming.

Bellamy fixed the man with a stony stare, but Clarke knew he was concerned. Going last would be no good either. With no more people to support the rope on the way down, it would be the riskiest job. Before Clarke could summon up the courage to put on the harness, however, Bellamy spoke first.

“What if she goes with me?”

Clarke sucked in a breath and turned to him. “Bellamy, I’m okay. I can do it myself.” As she said this, she felt the nausea returning to her and stumbled slightly. Bellamy caught her.

“No. You’re not.” His eyes were fixed with determination. “I’ve done this before, with Mel. I can get you down.”

Clarke wanted to protest, but staring into Bellamy’s deep brown eyes – fixed with determination – she was filled with an overwhelming feeling of trust. This was Bellamy. Looking in his eyes, she was positive he would never let her fall. After everything, that was one thing she could be absolutely certain of.

Clarke sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

Bellamy seemed relieved that she agreed with him, but still nervous. He breathed out once, nodded, and turned to the man holding the rope out at him. Bellamy reached out for the rope, only hesitating for one second before taking it out of his hand. Clarke supported herself against the wall as Bellamy fastened the harness around his waist. As she watched this, Clarke couldn’t help but think that there was a small chance a simple rope like that would be able to withstand all the people at the top of the tower who would require it to take them to the ground – eventually, it would break. She gulped and tried to push down that thought, succeeding only slightly.

After a few minutes, Bellamy returned to her and grabbed her arm gently, nodding over to the ledge. “We’re ready.”

Clarke nodded, feeling her pulse jump in her throat. There was so much that could go wrong. The rope could snap; the harness could come undone. Clarke could faint – what if Bellamy couldn’t hold her up? She let out a breath of air and ignored her worry. This would work. It had to work.

Bellamy led her to the edge of the mini balcony to a spot where the wall had been slowly degraded so it was significantly lower than the rest of it – short enough for a person to easily fall over the edge and spiral towards the pavement below. The man holding the rope raised his eyebrows at them and said, “You sure going together is a better idea than letting the girl go on her own?”

Just as he said this, Clarke felt her legs crumpling and Bellamy managed to catch her before she collapsed, supporting her around the waste. “Yeah,” Bellamy breathed, “I’m pretty sure.”

He helped her to her feet, and Clarke gratefully reached her arms around his shoulders, wrapping them as tight as she could manage in her state. He wrapped his arm around her waist in turn, and they waited – standing on the edge of the polis tower together – as the men took all the slack out of the rope. When they were done, Bellamy whispered into her ear, quiet enough that no one else could hear, “You good?”

She nodded against his shoulder, but realized he probably wouldn’t know what that meant so she said back, “Yeah.”

Bellamy gave her waist a reassuring squeeze in response and tightened even more around her as he started to slowly back them over the edge. His other hand held on to the rope that was currently serving as their lifeline and he let it run through his hands. The other men were straining against the rope, trying to ensure that it remained taut for the two of them to get over the edge – apparently, this was the hardest part.

Clarke watched the ground spread out below them over Bellamy’s shoulder. As a gust of wind blew by, ruffling her hair, Clarke’s stomach lurched. She was becoming increasingly aware of just how high up they were, and wondered how many seconds they would be suspended in the air if they were to fall. She let out a shaky breath and fastened her arms more securely around Bellamy’s neck, clutching onto the fabric of his jacket. One of her legs dangled free, the other tangled around Bellamy’s to provide a little extra support. As they made it down over the edge and the men started letting out more of the rope to lower the pair, Clarke fought the urge to wrap her legs around Bellamy’s waist for further support.

“You afraid of heights, Clarke?” Clarke could tell Bellamy was aiming for a casual tone, but he didn’t quite manage to disguise the subtle concern in his question. Not entirely – she could read him too well.

Clarke didn’t reply, just attempted to breathe in and out steadily. She didn’t quite succeed – her breathing was coming out faster and louder than usual, trembling. Clarke could feel her hands slipping, too weak to sustain such a tight grip. Instinctively, she let out a little gasp of distress, feeling her stomach drop. Bellamy immediately pulled her closer to him, letting go of his hand on the rope to hold her with both arms. He hoisted her up a bit and held her like that until she managed to get her grip secure again.

“I’ve got you,” he told her. “I’ve got you.” He repeated his words quietly, barely a whisper, almost as if he was saying it more to himself than to her.

“Bellamy, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold on all the way to the bottom.” Clarke felt the nausea returning to her and tasted bile in her throat.

“And if you can’t, then I’ll have you,” he told her back. “I promise.”

Clarke muffled a shaky breath in his jacket and stared over his shoulder. From this height, all the people below looked like the figurines they used to use when planning battle strategies back at the dropship. That was such a long time ago, or so it seemed. The memories of first landing on earth and breathing in the clean air – the prospect of clean air now seeming bitterly ironic – touching her feet on the soft soil of the ground and genuinely smiling seemed so bizarre that Clarke would have thought them fake if she didn’t remember how it felt – the joy, the disbelief, that coursed through her. The indescribable feeling of finally reaching the paradise that captivated her dreams, the unrepeatable action of walking off the dropship for the first time and realizing that this – finally, this – could be her second chance.

How little she had known; how naïve she had been to believe that the worst of her life had ended. Her hardships had yet to come – laid out in front of her was a pathway made in the dust of ashes and crushed bones, the soles of her boots she treaded on dyed dark red and soaked through with blood. Blood that would soon find its way to her hands and never wash off. Clarke’s pain was only as good as the pain she inflicted upon others.

Perhaps it would be a merciful way to die, were she to die like this – falling towards the ground she dreamed off, the last thing she touched Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her – a more merciful death than she could possibly deserve.

With this thought in mind, Clarke turned her head into Bellamy’s neck and closed her eyes. Like this, taking comfort in his warmth and the arm around her middle, she could almost pretend that they weren’t hanging off the side of a building, but were instead together back at the dropship. Despite all the bad memories that came with that place, it was also the only place Earth offered Clarke that she felt truly at home.

Unfortunately, all fantasies came to an end.

Suddenly, Clarke felt a tight pull on the rope before it dropped and she and Bellamy started hurtling towards the ground below, gaining velocity by the millisecond as the rope – now loose – trailed behind them. Clarke’s eyes popped open and her scream was caught in the wind as her arms slipped away from around Bellamy’s shoulders. She heard Bellamy’s cry of desperation as he attempted to grasp wildly at her waist, trying to gain purchase somewhere, but to no avail. Clarke felt herself falling out of his reach, and closed her eyes.

Clarke had just accepted the fate that awaited her in a few short seconds when a strong hand closed around her wrist. She felt a sharp pain rip through her shoulder as her momentum came to a stop. Opening her eyes, Clarke saw that Bellamy had managed to get a hold of her arm before she fell to the ground. The rope holding them was tight once more, but they were a solid hundred feet farther down than they had been a few seconds ago. Bellamy was staring at her with a look of determination – he was perched on a ledge of the building a few feet up. Letting go of his hand on the rope, he wrapped it around her arm and, with strain, managed to pull her up so that she was securely beside him.

Clarke threw her arms around his shoulders, overwhelmed by the shot of adrenaline she’d just experienced. For a moment, she forgot that she was sick – the only thing that mattered was that she was with Bellamy now and they weren’t splattered on the ground. Bellamy was alive. At least temporarily, they were safe. Clarke’s heart beat erratically out of her chest, and she could feel Bellamy’s doing the same through the fabric of his t-shirt.

Bellamy secured his arms around her waist once more and whispered in her ear, breathlessly, “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.” Clarke smiled into her jacket, but didn’t reply.

The remainder of their trip to the base of the tower was uneventful. This time, Clarke threw away any previous misgivings and wrapped her legs around Bellamy’s waist. Bellamy tensed briefly for a second, but didn’t say anything about it.

When they finally touched the ground, Clarke extracted her legs from Bellamy’s waist but kept her arms around his neck, dreading the moment when she would have to pull away. She felt tears burning at the back of her eyes and she hid her face in Bellamy’s jacket. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Clarke?” Bellamy voiced cautiously, as if he were scared to pull away. “It’s okay. We’re safe now.”

A sob broke out of Clarke’s mouth at his words and she felt the familiar feeling of heat in her eyes as tears started pouring out. Her crying was quiet for the most part, but she knew Bellamy could feel it because he wrapped another arm around her. He’d already loosened the harness from his waist and was stepping out of it. Walking slowly backwards, he guided her behind a wall of wooden boards set up behind a stand so that they had a relative amount of privacy.

“No, we’re not,” Clarke cried. “We’re not safe.”

She wasn’t sure if Bellamy could hear her through the muffling of his t-shirt. Regardless, he rubbed circles gently into her back and rested his head on her shoulder. He didn’t try to convince her she was wrong, smother her with lies about how they would stop the melting nuclear power plants and live on victoriously. There was a lot one could say about Bellamy Blake, but he wasn’t a liar; to this day, he was one of the few people who never lied to her. The truth was, he didn’t need to lie – he probably knew Clarke would see right through him anyway – in that moment, the feeling of his touch and the warmth of his embrace was the best comfort she could ask for.

In reality, they couldn’t have stood that way, trapped in each other’s arms, for longer than ten minutes or so when duty would call them again, but to Clarke it felt longer. It felt like the two of them had been holding each other for hours, for days. In that moment, the measure of time was impossible to count – the sweet peace and comfort of resting silently in Bellamy’s touch could have lasted for eternity, yet it still wouldn’t be enough.

~ ~ ~

It was dusk when the Arkadian’s finally started their trek back to camp. Abby filled the jeep with the worst of the wounded and Miller started on trips back and forth to Arkadia. The rest of them loaded up on the supplies available to them and prepared for a three-day long hike. By a rather morbid stroke of luck, all the materials sold in the Polis market centre were available to the Sky People because most of the people who used to run them were either dead, missing, or too in shock to care about the people raiding their stands. Bellamy felt slightly guilty in filling his bag with enough food and water and medical supplies to last him the next few days, but bitterly reminded himself that it wouldn’t matter in six months anyway.

He didn’t see Octavia.

Clarke and Bellamy found Indra propped against one of the market stalls, clutching to newly – if not expertly – bandaged hands in her lap. She was staring off blankly, seemingly at nothing, with a grim set to her jaw and an even more serious look in her eye than normal. Bellamy didn’t have to ask her the question that was one his mind; Indra already knew.

“You are too late,” she told them when they showed up at her side, not removing her gaze from the skyline. “She is gone.”

Bellamy’s throat clenched. “Where?” he managed to get out.

This time, Indra had turned to look at him. “I don’t know,” she told him. “And if you are smart you will not look for her.”

Bellamy ignored her words, but they still stung. “You didn’t go with her?”

“I told her that she is leading a self-destructive path. A warrior fights when called to battle; they do not set out in search of a death sentence.” Indra explained emotionlessly. “She did not appreciate my advice.”

After that, Clarke and Bellamy left Indra behind, Bellamy feeling disheartened but not surprised. For the first time in his life, he was completely helpless to protect his sister. Even if he could find her, she would never accept his help – not anymore. Not after all that he had done. This was something he expected would happen eventually, but he was unprepared for the gaping hole in his heart that she used to fill. Just like that, Octavia was simply … _gone_. And he had no idea if she would ever return.

He and Clarke didn’t talk for the first few hours. She seemed to have regained some of her strength and could manage walking, it seemed – at least, for now. Some of the colour returned to her cheeks and lips, but the brightness remained sucked from her eyes. Replaced by the normally intelligent and determined look she usually wore, her irises were a dull and lifeless blue. Bellamy supposed this was all that he could expect from a girl bearing the weight of the knowledge that the world was ending in six months, but it didn’t help the pang he felt in his chest at seeing her so empty and hopeless. A part of him had hoped she would maintain her spirit until her last breath, so that she could truly end this battle as the same girl he had come to know and care for these past months.

Right now, Clarke walked alongside Jackson, who was rattling on about some sort of medical procedure that Bellamy didn’t understand. With Abby busy ushering the sick and wounded back to camp, Jackson was left to support the other couple hundred people who could still manage to walk. Admittedly, it seemed a lot to ask of one person to look after so many people, but they were out of options. Bellamy fell behind a few steps, so he was alone, and watched the trees passing by. While they once held what seemed to be an infinite amount of wonder to him, they now appeared to be drained of all colour and life. Now the wildlife only served as a harsh reminder of all Bellamy had to lose. In six months, ninety-six percent of the world would be reduced to fire and ashes, the burning air an inferno - incinerating everything and everyone who dared to set foot on this forsaken earth.

The moment the Dropship was launched towards the Earth, every last one of them was marked for death. Only in an alternate universe could it be possible for any of them to live a long and fulfilling life, but not in the reality as Bellamy knew it.

Bellamy’s eyes were drawn away from the forest when an image caught the corner of his eye – Clarke, her knees buckling. The pack she was carrying slipped from her grip and Clarke dropped like a stone. Bellamy had just enough time for his instincts to kick in and to catch her before her head hit the ground. Bellamy kneeled and cradled Clarke. She blinked blearily up at him uncomprehendingly. Her temple was beaded with sweat and her skin felt clammy when Bellamy touched the back of his hand to her forehead.

Gathering her legs in his arms, he picked her up and carried her over to the edge of the forest, laying her gently down on the soft ground. With one hand supporting her head, he reached his other arm back to grab his pack. Inside, he pulled out a jacket he stashed in it earlier and folded it into a makeshift pillow to place under her head. Clarke, eyes closed, murmured something softly that he could not make out and in a few seconds it was clear that she was no longer conscious. By now, Jackson was at Clarke’s side with his med kit out, but he didn’t appear to be making any sort of move to utilize it.

“Any idea what caused this?” Jackson asked.

“She just had a blood transfusion a few hours ago,” Bellamy explained. “She’s exhausted and has been dizzy and faint all day.” Bellamy swallowed. “She should have been in the rover with Abby. It was only a matter of time before she collapsed.”

Jackson nodded as he took in the information and looked over Clarke for a moment longer, checking her pulse and feeling her forehead. “She should be okay if she rests,” he told Bellamy. Despite the calm tone of his voice, Bellamy could hear the underlying urgency in Jackson’s voice – but it wasn’t about Clarke. The doctor kept looking over his shoulder every other second at the people growing smaller and smaller in the distance and he kept shifting on his legs, as if he was itching to run out and be with them.

“Go on,” Bellamy nodded toward the Arkadians moving away in the distance, oblivious to the three people who had fallen behind. “I know the way back to camp. Clarke won’t be waking up for a while and those people over there need a doctor. We have our med kits if anything happens.”

Jackson hesitated for a moment, but eventually sighed and conceded. “If you need anything, if anything happens, you have your walkie.” With that, he nodded awkwardly and rushed off to catch up with the group, seemingly relieved to be back with the pack. Bellamy could only imagine the pressure that Abby and Jackson dealt with in the medical wing, constantly having to treat new injuries and conditions – it seemed that there was always more of the wounded to treat, always someone in need of help. If Bellamy had the responsibility of protecting so many people, he wouldn’t ever want to leave their side.

With this thought, Bellamy looked down at Clarke, her head tilted slightly and her hair splayed across his jacket, some of the strands sticking slightly to her forehead. Her lips were parted slightly and her chest rose and fell slowly, steadily. Bellamy wondered when the last time she had truly slept was. When he considered that, Bellamy couldn’t remember the last time he had slept either. They were fighting a constant and endless war – each time a warrior fell, a new threat arose, and if this pattern continued, their enemies would soon outnumber their allies. Only this time, the threat wasn’t a person – it was an inevitability, something that could not be stopped, tamed or controlled – this time, they were fighting against the Earth itself. This feeling of helplessness and vulnerability – the loss of hope – this, Bellamy thought, must be how the last citizens of Earth felt before the nukes all those decades ago. He was reminded of what one of his teachers said once, that history did not just belong in the past: it was a cycle.

Everything repeats, comes full circle. At the end of it all, all the pain and suffering and losses … It was all for nothing. Here, reaching the last part of their journey, they were destined to always reach this destination of destruction. Maybe humans weren’t supposed to survive. Maybe it would have been easier if those nukes had succeeded in killing everyone in the first place. If the Ark and all its rules and restrictions never existed, if Octavia were never born, if the Dropship never landed and the Grounders never reigned. Everything that seemed important to Bellamy, everything he had worked for as well as destroyed, none of it would matter in six months.

It was a bittersweet thought – the peace that death would bring, the knowledge that he didn’t even deserve that.

The more he considered it, the less sharp Bellamy’s mind became. Each thought morphed into another, twisting, blending, merging, and falling apart. An endless cycle – like history, like everything. How meaningless emotions and thoughts were, when all they led to was confusion and pain and second guessing and terrible decisions and irreversible mistakes. If Bellamy had learned anything on the ground, it was that: a person could not be trusted even with their own mind. When faced with hardship, no one survived with their morality intact. The “good people” in the world were the ones whose own well-meaning intentions were carved into grave markers. Down here, good people didn’t exist – he knew that now.

The only thing left for humanity was survival, and not even that anymore.

~ ~ ~

Clarke thought death had finally come for her.

Through the vibrant green of the trees overhead, sunlight streamed through the spaces between the leaves, shining in her eyes and giving everything a blurry look. The world seemed to spin slightly and Clarke felt as if she was floating, her senses gone, the only feeling peace and the removal of all her burdens. For once, Clarke was lost in a feeling of tranquility. She grasped onto the feeling, held it tight in the palm of her hand, and prayed she would never have to let it go.

But then she remembered Bellamy.

She was struck with an image of his face, his wild hair, those infinite freckles that always reminded her of stars when the sun shone on them just right, the shape of his lips, and those incredibly dark eyes – the eyes that always saw through her, that struck her with a feeling of being exposed, like he was opening up all of her wounds and staring deep into her soul.

Those deep, sorrowful eyes.

The memory alone snapped her out of her reverie and brought her back to reality. The feeling of rocks and dirt and twigs dug into her back, the world stopped spinning, and Clarke’s head pounded. She grimaced and reached her arms out to the side, feeling grassy earth, and pushed herself up to a bent over position. Her back ached, and her head ached even more, but she didn’t feel sick or lightheaded anymore. Her nausea had passed. Clarke rolled over on her side to look at her surroundings. She was on the side of what looked to be the pathway she had been traveling with the rest of the Arkadians when she collapsed – that she remembered. Only now the sky was growing darker, turning a purple hew, and there was not a soul in sight.

Except for one.

Clarke heard soft intakes of breath to her right and turned her head to take in a picture of Bellamy with his back against the base of a tree, one arm slung over his lap and his head resting on his shoulder. His eyes were closed, fluttering just slightly. He was fast asleep. A faint smile turned up the corners of Clarke’s mouth. She doubted Bellamy meant to fall asleep, but she was happy that he would get at least a few hours. After the bomb she just tied to his back, he deserved at least that.

It didn’t last long. As though he sensed her looking at him, even unconscious, Bellamy shifted and his eyes popped open, looking disoriented for a minute before realization dawned on him and he focussed in on her face. Clarke smiled slightly at him but it didn’t stick. It was hard to smile anymore, especially now – especially knowing it was hopeless. Clarke crawled over to Bellamy and sat with her head against the tree trunk, beside him.

They had sat like this once before, way back at the beginning. Back before Clarke had burned three hundred people in a ring of fire. Before Mount Weather, before the drilling, before Clarke and Bellamy had stopped it once and for all. Before Finn, before Lexa. Before the City of Light.

Before this.

That time was so long ago, so long that it almost didn’t seem real. A time in which Clarke had only suffered just the tiniest fraction of what she felt now – it was hard to believe that, back then, she believed it might never get this bad, never considered the inevitable: that they were doomed after all.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes but Clarke blinked them away. She was sick of crying. It seemed that there was always a reason to cry now. Someone was always dying, there was always a war to fight. The end of the world was just around the corner – the pain was endless. A new threat popped up, one after the other. All the people Clarke helped, healed? It was for nothing. Her title – Commander of Death – those deaths were for nothing, too.

Finally, she encountered the enemy she could never hope to beat.

“What are we going to do, Bellamy?” Clarke’s sounded delicate and meager, even to herself, and her voice cracked despite her better efforts.

Bellamy did not respond for a long, extended moment of silence. If she didn’t notice him tense up out of the corner of her eye, she might have thought he had simply fallen asleep again, but he was awake. Bellamy was thinking, searching for an answer to give her. Clarke wondered if he would find one.

Finally, he spoke. “What we always do,” he said. “Keep fighting.”

Clarke turned to him this time, and she couldn’t even bring herself to care that her vision was growing blurry from the moisture in her eyes. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Bellamy looked at her, a crease between his two eyebrows, his eyes softening under her gaze. “Me too,” he replied softly. “But I can’t just … give up. Not anymore. I owe them more than that.” The last part he spoke quietly, more to himself than to Clarke, she sensed. He averted his gaze, staring at the hands in his lap.

“Yeah, I guess we both do,” Clarke responded morosely, then she laughed with little passion. “How did this happen?”

Bellamy looked at her inquisitively. “What?”

“You and me,” she told him, smiling faintly again. “I could barely stand you when we first got here. I thought you were just about the most arrogant prick I’d ever met. Now I don’t know how I could possibly still be standing now if I didn’t have you.”

“You would be,” Bellamy told her, and she could tell from the sound of his voice he was being sincere. “You always do.”

Clarke shrunk in on herself. “I’ve lost so many people.” Each word felt like it was draining her of strength, slowly but surely. “My dad, Wells, Finn, everyone in Mount Weather …” _Lexa_. “And now I’m going to lose everyone else too. All for nothing.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a long time, and Clarke was going to take that as agreement, as a final sign that this was it – it was finally time to give up, but then she heard him say, “Hey.” His voice was so soft that it was barely a whisper, but she still heard it.

Bellamy placed his hand on her knee and his touch sent sparks up her leg. It felt like strength returning.

“We’re going to work something out,” he said. “Somehow. This isn’t the end. Not yet.”

Clarke forced herself to look up at him. His face was close to hers now, closer than she remembered it being, and she could see deep into his eyes. They were staring back at her intently, unblinking, the dark brown warm and comforting – familiar. With his hand on her knee, Clarke felt safe, at peace. Every part of her trusted him, and the feeling rushed through her again at his words. Bellamy, the one person who hadn’t lied to her, who offered her the truth even when she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to believe him now, but even if she did the familiar strain on her heart was still present and it just grew tighter with each breath. She was mere inches away from losing everything, all at once, at any moment – including him. That thought - that his eyes she loved so much would never blink with life again, the hand on her knee would never reach for her again, his blood running cold in his veins - was a fear so suffocating it took everything she had not to turn and run far, far away.  

“And then what?” she croaked. “Even if we do miraculously save the world, what comes after? We get into more trouble, face another threat, kill more people. It’s just a loop, a continuous cycle of death and pain and suffering, and it never ends. Maybe it’s time we let it.”

Bellamy shook his head. “Clarke, don’t. Please. If you give up now, that endless loop – it’s all you get. Because if we don’t try to stop this, it all ends in death anyway. Maybe one day, after all of this fighting, maybe finally it will be over. But it isn’t yet.’”

Clarke’s vision went blurry and she blinked away tears. She rotated her body away from Bellamy and stared out at the horizon, visible just through the trees. The last of the sun was disappearing behind the mountains, casting a warm honey glow over everything. The trees glimmered in the growing dark, the last of the dying light casting just enough to make them glow. So many times, Clarke had spent outside during the night, underneath the stars, and yet each new place brought its own wonder. Earth would never lose its magic – not to Clarke. Not after seventeen years spent stranded in space. To think, in six months, it would be torn away in a hailstorm of fire and ash.

Clarke closed her eyes, letting a single tear slip from underneath. Softly, she whispered, “I’m ready for it to be over.”

Bellamy was quiet for so long, Clarke would have thought he had left if she didn’t know Bellamy well enough to be certain he would never abandon her. If she couldn’t feel the heat radiating off his body beside her, the always comforting evidence of his presence.

“Clarke, please.” Bellamy’s voice was so small it made Clarke’s eyes immediately pop open so she could look at him.

His face was illuminated just slightly by the moonlight, revealing the natural angles of his face – the slope of his nose, the curve of his brow, the hollows under his cheekbones, his cupids-bow mouth, and the lines of his jaw. It was all so familiar to her - she had his features practically memorized from all the times over the past months she’d spent with him, yet she still yearned to reach out and trace every line and curve, to run her finger lightly over his face and connect every freckle and pretend they were the constellations she saw so many times in her three months spent in solitude. Maybe it was the child in her, or maybe it was another longing, a longing to find a way to connect Bellamy to the night sky, if only to entertain the illusion that all those lonely nights of staring at the stars, she wasn’t so alone after all. Clarke didn’t know when Bellamy’s face started to fascinate her, when she started to take note of every single change in expression, learned to read his emotions as easily as reading a book. But somehow it had happened and, as Clarke stared into Bellamy’s eyes now – warm, soft, melting in her gaze – she was entranced.

Bellamy seemed lost for a moment, hesitant, but he continued. “I can’t do this alone again, Clarke,” he said softly, in that same small voice he used earlier. It took Clarke a moment to recognize that Bellamy was afraid. “When you left …” He paused. “I tried not to care, I tried to forget. But it felt like I was suffocating everyday when I got up to find you and remembered you weren’t there, never knowing if you were hurt or even alive, knowing that you were punishing yourself for what we did. I can’t do it again, I just … I need you.”

Every part of her ached for it all to be over – the war, the bloodshed, the death. And yet, sitting here beside Bellamy, hearing and seeing the pain that was written all over him, made it impossible for her to envision getting up and leaving, finding somewhere peaceful to lay down and die. _I need you_. Perhaps she’d always known it was true, and yet thinking it and hearing it aloud was something entirely different. For him, she would keep fighting. Bellamy was right: if she didn’t, everything they’d done would be for nothing, and humanity would pay the price.

“I’m not going to leave you again, Bellamy,” Clarke decided, whispering it to him. She could feel drowsiness starting to pull her into the comforting arms of sleep again. “I promise. When we’re at Arkadia we need to call for a council meeting. We’re going to figure our way out of this.”

Bellamy nodded, and then he finally leaned his head against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and visibly exhaling. He seemed relieved, but also unsettled. Clarke knew it could be because of the world ending – it was the obvious conclusion to make – but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was something else. The thought plagued her that maybe Bellamy didn’t fully believe she wouldn’t abandon him again, maybe he was still afraid that that suffocating feeling he talked about would return once more.

Clarke frowned and leaned her head on Bellamy’s shoulder, fitting it into the crook of his neck.

“Bellamy?” she asked, staring through the cracks in the leaves up into the now fully dark sky. Tiny pinpricks of light peered through the darkness above: the stars.

“Yeah?”

“Can you pretend for a moment that the world isn’t ending?”

She felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly in her hair. “Okay, Clarke,” he responded, and she could hear the contained laugh in his voice.

“I just want to pretend for a moment that all of this … pain never happened.” She said quietly. “For one night, I want to pretend that things aren’t terrible, that they’re how they’re supposed to be. I want to be a girl being held by a boy, sitting under a tree on Earth and staring up at the stars. At least for a little while.”

Bellamy didn’t respond. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer, and rested his own head on top of hers. Clarke felt her breathe catch and she sunk into his hold. The air was brisk but, beside him, she barely felt it. For now, Clarke would block out all the bad stuff – that would come tomorrow. All that existed was the fresh night air, the trees that guarded them like giants, the stars that shone like flashlights in the sky, and Bellamy’s body next to hers.

_I need you._

_I need you._

_I need you._

The mantra that played in her head, along with the comforting warmth of Bellamy by her side in the moonlight, lulled her to sleep.

~ ~ ~

They didn’t tell anyone for four days upon arriving at Arkadia.

It wasn’t intentional to keep it quiet for so long, but seeing the celebration – the drinking, the laughter, the _joy_ – made it far too difficult to rip it all away. Even the wounded could be found with drinks in their hands. Smiling and half-delirious people with bandages wrapped around their heads, torsos, and in various other places stumbled around Arkadia, flashing teeth at everyone and raising their mugs to the sky. Arkadia was in party mode – at least, half of it was. The other half lingered in dark corners, brooding, also drinking – but not in celebration. Bellamy had a feeling that they were drinking to forget, to fight off the reminder of what they lost with the destruction of the City of Light. He could tell the way it weighed down on Clarke, to see them in that way. She thought it was her fault; he didn’t know how to convince her it wasn’t.

The first night that they got back, Jackson greeted them. Evidently, he appeared relieved to see that they were all right, but it probably had more to do with getting Abby off his back about abandoning her daughter than him actually being worried that they wouldn’t be all right. The doctor then guided them through the crowd – all the whoops and laughter clearer than ever in Bellamy’s ears – and showed them to Clarke’s room. It had been given away to someone else, at some point after Camp Jaha became Arkadia, but it was available now, and Bellamy didn’t want to ask why.

Jackson left them in the doorway, and when he was gone, Clarke immediately pulled Bellamy inside and shut the door behind her quickly. She turned to him, her face pale and wearing a mask of stone. She looked as thought she might be sick.

“They’re so happy.” Clarke shook her head, that little crease appearing between her eyebrows that always did when she was sad. “We’re going to take that from them.”

“I know,” Bellamy murmured, and he wanted to punch himself in the face, because he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make it all right.

Clarke sighed, and Bellamy was suddenly hyperaware of how close to each other they were. Clarke’s room had a small, narrow hallway that opened into her sleeping area at the end of it, and there wasn’t much space around them. Clarke closed her eyes and slid down against the wall so that she was sitting and leaning against it. Bellamy followed, seating himself across from her, his legs bent in the small space.

“We can’t tell them,” Clarke said quietly. “Not yet.”

“But eventually,” Bellamy added. “Soon. We can’t just keep this quiet forever, Clarke. They need to know.”

Clarke deflated. “I know. Let’s just …” she paused, “let them enjoy it for a few days.”

Bellamy nodded and placed his hand on her knee, which was right beside him, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “And then we tell them.”

“And then we tell them,” Clarke echoed weakly. She closed her eye, laid her head against his knee, and didn’t say anything more.

They remained that way in silence for so long that Bellamy lost track of the minutes and the hours that ticked by. It was nice to just be quiet for once, to not have to speak, to be content in knowing that there was someone else there – the weight of Clarke’s head on his knee the reminder he needed to reassure himself that maybe he wasn’t alone in the world after all.

For a moment, it was peaceful, but it didn’t last, and – four days later - Bellamy had to remind himself of everything he would soon tear away from the Arkadians he passed as he walked alongside Clarke to the chancellor’s office, both preparing themselves to drop the news of the approaching apocalypse like a bomb, bracing themselves for the ricochet.

The citizens of Arkadia had been left in ruins following the aftermath of the destruction of the City of Light, as were the politics, so the inevitable election (consisting of Abby and Kane, the only two contenders) was rushed and informal. Most people were too traumatized, wounded, or drunk to put any sort of energy into politics, so Kane won the underwhelming popular vote, taken from roughly 60% of the two hundred or so people who participated.

Clarke was silent beside him, but he could feel the nervous energy radiating off of her – he felt it within himself, too. They had been given some time to digest the information, had heard it before they were given any time to feel true happiness, but there was no telling what Abby and Kane’s reaction would be. The two were building something together - anyone could see it - and any person who looked at them would notice the newly revived hope and determination to better the future in their eyes. Bellamy didn’t want to be the person to extinguish that hope, the bearer of bad news, the bringer of the apocalypse – he never wanted this job, he only came down here to protect his sister. But now it wasn’t just Octavia who needed protecting: it was the whole world.

There was something else that made him wary, something he didn’t like to think about. His relationship with Kane had been rocky for a long time now, and every time he saw Kane it reminded him of his face – the morbid determination in his eyes – as he locked his hands around Bellamy’s throat back at the Polis tower, squeezing, never letting up. The logical side of his brain told him that it was just ALIE’s influence, but the other part of his brain painted a picture of Kane giving the order to gag him and hand him over to Pike. It reminded him of the words “he’s the enemy” and the searing look of cold disappointment that entered Kane’s eyes, the icicles sent his way for hours after, until they were reunited again in Polis.

It was the part of him that wondered about how much of ALIE was in those who were chipped, and how much of themselves remained, that held him back now. The horrors that haunted him at night, the constant question of how much of Kane was attached to the hands that wrapped themselves around his neck, and how much was the AI. He didn’t want to face Kane – he didn’t know how. And now the older man would barely look at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Clarke’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he looked down to see Clarke looking at him with a curious expression on her face.

Bellamy looked at his feet. “Just how we’re going to break the news to Kane and your mom that the world is going to burn in a few months.”

Bellamy could hear the tread of the ground underneath their feet, marching in unity, and the sound of critters rustling in the bushes.

“Yeah,” Clarke finally said. “Its not an ideal meeting.”

“It never is,” Bellamy added. “Lets just work on telling the truth, and then we’ll figure out what to do.”

Clarke nodded and let out a shaky breath. They reached the area just outside the Chancellor’s office, and the door was open. Inside, they could hear muffled talking and as they drew near, Bellamy saw that Kane was with Abby, leaning against the wall by his desk instead of sitting. They sported hesitant smiles, like they still were in shock that things had managed to turn out all right, which a decent amount of people still intact. Bellamy’s stomach lurched at the sight.

Clarke waited one moment, and then knocked on the door with purpose. Kane and Abby’s heads popped up to face them, the remnants of their smiles from seconds before still remaining.

“Clarke,” she said with surprise, turning to skepticism when she saw the person beside her daughter. “Bellamy. What’s going on?’

Clarke took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Abby and Kane shared a look and, her smile gone now, Abby motioned for them to come in. Bellamy closed the door once they were both inside, avoiding Kane’s gaze as he did. The four of them surrounded the councilmen table, and Bellamy turned to Clarke – she was already staring at him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment and he nodded slightly at her. Clarke looked away, and forced herself to look at her mom.

“Something happened … in the City of Light,” Clarke began carefully, slowly, like she was a girl walking over a frozen lake and was afraid of breaking the ice.

“And there’s a reason why we’re hearing about it now?” Abby asked, obviously attempting to mask the rising concern in her voice.

“We didn’t want to interrupt the peace,” Bellamy explained, talking for the first time in the meeting. “It seemed cruel.”

By now, the two adults before them appeared thoroughly alarmed. “What are you talking about?” Kane demanded. His voice was calm, his exterior collected, but Bellamy could sense him already stepping into battle mode, preparing for the next hardships to come.

Clarke took a deep shuddering breath, and Bellamy reached for her hand under the table, giving it a squeeze. She seemed to relax at his touch, and collected herself enough to speak. With one last determined look, Bellamy watched as Clarke fixed her face with a serious, detached expression – it was the same one she wore when she sent him away to Mount Weather. Only this time, he had the warmth of her hand to remind him of the heart hidden underneath.

With that, she relayed her the story she’d prepared, not pausing once. Abby and Kane were good listeners – they didn’t interrupt or give any of their emotions away. Their faces remained stoic, focussed, and they allowed Clarke to finish before reacting. When she was done, Kane placed his hands on the table, processing. Abby moved away, running a hand over her face and pacing. Neither of them said anything, their body language providing the only information Bellamy needed. For a long, uncomfortable minute, no one said anything at all. Clarke moved closer to Bellamy, their hands still connected, so her shoulder was pressed to his bicep. In any other circumstance, Bellamy would be surprised by the outward intimacy – the touches she generally offered only when they were alone – but right now he didn’t care how close she was to him, and Kane and Abby didn’t appear fazed either.

“We need to keep this quiet,” Kane said finally, his voice low.

Clarke nodded dejectedly, looking solemn. Bellamy frowned – it didn’t feel right. He was sick of lying, of the calculated moves made by the council behind closed doors, all the decision-making that happened without public consent. It sent a nasty reminder of the Ark council he so despised all his life, of the harsh decisions he had been forced to make, himself, since landing on the ground.

“And then what happens when its time to tell the people?” Bellamy challenged Kane, forcing himself look into the man’s eyes, hating the sick feeling that rose in his stomach as he did. “You think they’re going to be happy that the government kept it quiet for so long, that you decided – once again – to make all of the decisions for them? Those flimsy bandages on those people out there and the dwindling supply of moonshine is barely containing their anger at the council right now. How do you think the people will react when they find out you’ve been lying to them, too?”

Clarke’s hand left Bellamy’s and she turned to look at him, her eyebrow’s scrunched together. “Bellamy, we need to think about this-”

Before she could say anything, Kane interjected. “The people are in no position to be acting rationally right now. There _will_ be riots – if we let this out now, we’re begging for chaos. We can’t deal with that on top of the world ending. It’s the last thing we need.”

“Kane, he has a point,” Abby jumped in, staring at Bellamy. “Right now, we can’t afford the public not trusting us. We need unity, to solve this together. Otherwise, this animosity and mistrust will never end.”

Kane didn’t say anything, staring at her in mild disbelief before something seemed to dawn in his eyes and he let out a short laugh that barely left his lips, shaking his head slightly. “I should have known that it would be you to question me. Some things never change.”

He didn’t seem angry; in fact, he said this almost fondly, but with a certain sadness attached to his voice too. He turned to sit down in a chair near the table, and it appeared to Bellamy that Kane seemed lost – he didn’t know what to do. He was tired.

“We still have to think about this,” Clarke said. “If we go public right away, there’s no telling how they will react. We should think of a plan first.”

Bellamy sighed. “And what genius plan, exactly, were you thinking of this time, Clarke?” He didn’t mean to snap, but the frustration of the situation was catching up to him. The flash of hurt that appeared on Clarke’s face and the way she moved away from him slightly made his heart twist painfully. He fought the urge to reach out to her, but Kane interrupted the awkwardness from stretching on for too long.

“We’ll keep it silent for just a little while,” he suggested. “No longer than a few weeks so we can sort this out – then we’ll go public.”

Abby’s expression mirrored Bellamy’s thoughts – she looked concerned, but at a loss of ideas. There was no perfect solution, no good way to deal with it. Tell the people, or don’t – there would be consequences regardless.

“Fine,” she said eventually, sounding unsatisfied. “But we need to tell some people to help work this out – anyone in engineering, Raven … people who have valuable skills we’re going to need.”

Kane nodded, clearly deep in thought. “We should put together a list and let everyone know tomorrow. We’re also going to need to reach out to the other clans.”

Before Bellamy could object, Kane put his hand up and continued, “This battle is bigger than just Sky People, and the solution very likely lies beyond our camp. We’re not going to survive this alone. Any one of those people out there,” he motioned out the door, probably referring to the regions beyond the Arkadia walls, “could have something that will save us. Now is not the time to let old prejudices blind us from salvation.”

_Prejudice._

Bellamy almost wanted to laugh, but he held back all his biting comments. Kane was right, however much he still hated the idea of negotiating with the Grounders. When the people he cared about’s lives were on the line, he wasn’t about to stand in the way of any sort of solution. Bellamy glanced over at Clarke, who had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since his comment. She was staring blankly at the table, avoiding his eyes even though he knew she was aware he was looking at her. Her jaw was set – Bellamy’s hands twitched with the urge to touch her shoulder. He wanted to talk to her, but Abby and Kane’s presence made it difficult.

The two older adults continued to discuss strategies and diplomatic missions to all the twelve clans but their noise seemed to fade into the background. Bellamy lost interest and wanted nothing more than to leave the room, leave the responsibility, to just pack up and go as he had planned to do so long ago.

Eventually, Kane turned to them and said, “You two should go – its getting late. We’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Clarke nodded and was the first to go, pulling the door open with haste and walking quickly out the door. The rest of them all watched her leave and Bellamy felt Abby and Kane’s eyes on Bellamy’s head as he stared at where she used to be and he avoided facing them – he knew they could sense the tension in the air. After a few seconds, he started to move for the doorway.

“Bellamy?” Abby said abruptly before he exited the doorway completely. He turned towards her, not knowing what to expect. “You were right,” she said slowly. “People need to be unified right now – we can’t have these walls set up between us – not now.”

His first instinct was to be surprised by her telling him this, slightly exasperated by the repetition of what they already talked about, but then he saw Abby glance to where Clarke was standing previously and back at him. She stared at him almost pleadingly, and Bellamy knew that they weren’t talking about the Arkadians anymore.

He nodded awkwardly and turned around to leave, shutting the door behind him.

~ ~ ~

Some ulterior force drew Bellamy towards the most crowded area of Arkadia and he found himself seated at one of the stools in Arkadia’s bar. The people around him were noisy – their hoots of laughter and their distracted partying enough to block out the screaming of his thoughts. He figured it would be best to visit the bar now, when people would still party and leave him alone, rather than fix him with accusatory glares and furious questions, poison dripping from their tongues. When Kane, Abby, Clarke, and Bellamy decided to go public, there would be no stopping the bitter souls of Arkadia, looking for people to blame. They would face the wrath of Arkadia’s fury and Bellamy wouldn’t try to stop it, either.

They deserved to be angry, and he deserved to be hated – it worked out perfectly that way.

Bellamy noticed the bartender filling cups out of the corner of his eye, grinning, and half expected to see Gina. But Gina was gone – dead – no more than a pile of ashes lying somewhere in the wreckage of Mount Weather, and she was never coming back. A pang filled his chest, and Bellamy tried to wipe the memories of Gina from his mind. He wanted to forget.

Before he could order up a drink, someone slammed two cups down on the counter and slid into the chair beside him. Raising an eyebrow, Bellamy turned to see Clarke looking at him. His lips parted slightly, and he was at a loss of words to say. He hadn’t expected to face her again until morning. A reminder of the awkwardness in the Chancellor’s office rushed back to him and he glanced away.

“You look like you could use a drink,” she said hastily, “and I owe you one.”

Bellamy stared at the cup in front of him, but didn’t touch it. The thought of consuming alcohol right now – while appealing before – made him feel sick. This wasn’t how he wanted to get a drink with Clarke; those were saved for after they saved the world, not right before it was about to end.

“What gave it away?” he asked, treading carefully.

“You were wearing that old brooding expression – the one where it looks like you have about ten different voices in your head slandering you repeatedly,” she told him decisively, and Bellamy looked towards her again, shaking his head slightly.

“So the usual, then.”

Clarke smiled slightly, but then a crease between her eyebrows formed again, and she looked away from him, holding onto her cup with two hands. The room was filled with obnoxious cheering and screaming, but the silence between them that ensued was the loudest of all. Clarke seemed to be trying to make an effort to pretend it didn’t happen by bringing the drinks, but Bellamy could see that she was upset.

“Clarke,” he said softly, “What I said back with Abby and Kane … I didn’t mean to-” he sighed. “I wasn’t thinking – I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” he managed. “I’m sorry.”

She looked up from her cup to meet his eyes, appearing surprised, but then her gaze softened and she reached out to run her hand over his arm that was propped on the table. “I know,” she answered gently.

Bellamy frowned. “You always do that.”

“Do what?” Clarke looked confused, all of sudden, her hand frozen on his arm.

“You just … let it go,” he said. “You always forgive me. I just wish you … wouldn’t.”

“Bellamy?” Her eyebrows scrunched together again. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He looked away from her. “Just seems like no matter what I do, you’re always there. You never blame me for anything.”

“Bellamy, no matter what I could do to you, it would never be as bad as what you do to punish yourself.” Her voice had taken on a sad quality to it and her eyes burned into his, communicating a message he could not translate.

She lifted her hand from his arm and pushed his mug closer to him. After, she took her own and reached it to her lips, tipping it back and downing it in one take. Bellamy’s eyes widened and when he was done, he reached out for her cup, taking it out of her hand. All the contents in the mug were gone, and Bellamy felt panic rising in him. He had no idea how potent the moonshine was, or what Clarke’s tolerance was like. There had been a lot in the cup – Bellamy should have guessed what Clarke was here to do the moment she brought the drinks to the table

Bellamy stared at her, alarmed, and Clarke looked back. Her eyes appeared foggy and lazy. The normal intelligent glint of her eyes was replaced by something else, an expression Bellamy didn’t recognize. She appeared manic, desperate – either on the edge of tears, or on the brink of breaking down into a fit of hysterics.

“What the hell are you _doing_ , Clarke?” Bellamy didn’t like the look in her eye.

“Same as th’others,” she said, her words blending in an entirely un-Clarke-like fashion, nodding over her shoulder at the partying people on the floor. “Trying’t forget.”

After that she motioned to the bartender, a man around Bellamy’s age that he’d seen around many times before, but never asked for his name. Once she had his attention, she tapped her cup against the table and, understanding, he rushed to fetch her another one. Clarke sat back in her chair, supporting a grimace on her face. She looked like she was in pain, but was trying to fight it.

Bellamy didn’t like her methods.

When the bartender brought her second drink, Clarke reached for it eagerly. From her rushed movements, Bellamy could tell she was planning on downing that one too. She’d only taken the first sip and was tipping it back again when Bellamy snatched the cup from her hands, spilling it all over the counter. Clarke glared at the moonshine-covered table and looked up at Bellamy, frowning at him in a way she never did when sober.

“What’s that for?” she slurred.

Bellamy shook his head at her, clutching the cup and moving away from the table. “Just stay here,” he said. “I’ll get you another drink.”

Clarke seemed content with this, while still slightly irritated, and remained seated as he stood up from the bar. He headed towards the part of the room where the water tanks were kept and, keeping his eye on Clarke, filled her cup with it. For good measure, he grabbed another bottle and filled that one too. Clarke was waiting eagerly when he returned the table, reaching for the cup. Seeing her like that, so desperately seeking escape, painfully tore at Bellamy’s chest.

“Come on,” he said to her, “Let’s get out of here.”

“You wanna leave the bar?” She seemed confused.

Bellamy raised the water jug. “More for the trip,” he told her, hoping she wouldn’t be able to tell it was just water.

Clarke shrugged and walked alongside him. She started swaying slightly so her put his arm around her waist to support her. The guy behind the bar smirked and Bellamy fought the urge to flip him off. He’d been intending to ask how much alcohol was in the moonshine, but it hardly seemed appropriate now. Before they left completely, Bellamy grabbed a plate of untouched food from an abandoned table and guided them through the crowds of people.

After emerging through the doorway, it felt like Bellamy was breathing fresh air for the first time. The air in the bar was hot from all the warm bodies and crowds of drunk people. The feel of the breeze on his face was a welcome relief. Clarke didn’t seem to notice, sipping at her drink suspiciously.

“Doesn’ taste right,” she remarked skeptically, staring into the cup as though it held the answers to the universe in it’s contents. Bellamy didn’t respond, just kept her moving. He was taking them to a place at the back of the old Alpha station that was always empty, free of crowds and a great place to be alone. He used to go there with Gina, after her shifts in the bar. She knew he liked to find places to get away from all the everyday chaos of Arkadia – he needed to get away now, and Clarke did, too.

Once there, he sat him and Clarke down on the ground, reveling in the quiet and the cold air. He held out the plate of food to Clarke and nodded towards it. “You should eat some of this.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him but apparently decided to take it. She started with small bites but eventually starting eating more as the seconds passed by. The cup beside her was forgotten, but Bellamy didn’t know if that was because Clarke realized that it wasn’t moonshine after all, or if her urge to get drunk was gone now.

They stayed like that – just sitting, not talking – for an unknown period of time, Bellamy listening to Clarke finishing off the plate of food. He filled up her cup again and handed it to her when she was done. This time she accepted it gratefully – her previously destructive attitude was replaced with a broken expression and sad eyes. He didn’t say anything to her, letting some of the alcohol to go through her system. It was probably an hour and three refills later that the silence was finally broken.

“I’m a mess.” Clarke’s words were no longer slurred but Bellamy was certain the alcohol couldn’t totally be out of her system. Now, she just appeared destroyed, everything she’d been trying to drown out returning to her.

Bellamy didn’t know how to respond to her. “What are you doing to yourself, Clarke?”

Clarke stared down at her hands, apparently avoiding his eyes. “I wanted to see if it would help.” She put her head in her hand. “Now I just look like an idiot.”

Bellamy shook his head. “You don’t look like an idiot,” he told her. “You look like any other person looking for an escape.” He thought of how easy it would have been to take a shot – or five – just to escape reality for a few hours, to forget the weight of his existence and the burden forever tied to his shoulders. It was a tempting offer, but one he knew he would never take – his pain was a reminder that he had to do better. He wasn’t going to erase it.

Bellamy sighed and leaned back so that his head was touching the surface of the Ark station. Clarke did the same beside him, fiddling with the metal of the cup in her hand. He stared out into the forest, trying to see through brush and dark shadows, but to no avail. It would be easy to get lost in those woods – it would be easy to disappear, to just leave it all behind. Here in the dark, Bellamy saw the forest the way that Clarke must have all those months ago, as they stood together outside the gates of Camp Jaha.

It wasn’t a refuge, as Bellamy thought she viewed it – no. It was a monster with gaping jaws, beckoning. It was hell, a promise of eternal isolation and suffering. It was punishment.

As though Clarke read his mind, she said, “You ever think ‘bout running?”

Bellamy kept his eyes trained on the vision in front of him. “I did,” he said. “Long time ago. Someone convinced me not to.” He turned to look at her, then, to find her staring at him already – recognition returning to her eyes. The alcohol’s effect continued to wear off.

Clarke blinked at him and then avoided his gaze, staring where he had been just a moment before. “Only that once?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t leave them behind.” He laughed humorlessly. “For better or for worse. Hell, maybe I should just get up and leave.”

“Stop.”

Bellamy was taken aback by the force in Clarke’s words, the intensity in her eyes. She stared at him fully now, latching onto him with her eyes and it was impossible for him to look away.

“Stop saying things like that as if it doesn’t matter. Like you could just walk away and no one would notice, like no one cares about you.”

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, at a loss for words. Clarke wasn’t finished. She scooted closer to him, reaching for his hand.

“Those kids back there, the people – they love you. They trust you, even though you think your mistakes are irreparable. They still believe in you, Bellamy, even if you can’t see it, even if you never believe me. I-” She paused, seemed unable to get the words out. Then, quietly, almost meekly, she said, “You already know how I feel.”

Bellamy’s heart sped up and his breath caught, but Clarke didn’t seem to want to stop talking. She gathered herself, overcome by emotion, and finished with, “Don’t give up. Isn’t that what you told me? We can’t, not after everything we’ve been through.”

Bellamy leaned across her and plucked the empty bar mug off the earth floor, turning the handle in his hand. “What was this about, then, if not giving up?”

Silence.

Bellamy waited for the pause to be over, until finally sighing. “Momentary lapse in judgement,” she said weakly.

Bellamy leaned his head against the back of the Ark, biting the inside of his lip – hard. “God, I’m such an asshole.”

“What, Bellamy, no.” She shifted so she was facing him again, frowning again. “That wasn’t about you.”

He glanced at her skeptically. “Not even a little bit? After I said what I did you just … shut down for the rest of the meeting, Clarke.”

She sighed. “You were right. None of my plans work out, not really. I tried to make peace with the Grounders - it didn’t work. I tried to negotiate with Cage – it didn’t work. Tried to stop ALIE … Now the world is ending.”

“Those aren’t on you,” Bellamy said quickly, reaching for her hand to get her to pay attention to him. “You didn’t make those decisions alone, and you’re not going to fix this alone either. You have me.” He maintained eye contact and didn’t look away, forcing himself to stare at her. Hoping she would finally believe him.

After a pause, she said, “Even after everything?”

“Always.”

Clarke searched his eyes for a few seconds, but seemed to come to accept his words because she scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. His hand still covered hers, and she adjusted her grip so that she could hold his hand firmly.

Bellamy wondered how a person could be so strong, so solid, and yet so gentle and vulnerable all at once.

~ ~ ~

As it turned out, the “list” Kane and Abby made only ended up consisting of two names: Raven Reyes, and Monty Green. Everyone else, they decided, was not trusted or useful enough to confide in. Clarke couldn’t help but think that it was because all the others were dead.

The thought of talking to them was nerve-wracking to her, even more-so than telling her mother or Kane. With them, she knew she could expect a rational response, for them to start brainstorming ideas. Raven and Monty were more difficult to predict – she was so isolated from the both of them now. She had no idea how to reach them.

She had so much to take away from them. All of the joy that lit up Raven’s eyes in a way that she hadn’t seen since she first stepped out of her pod back in the old days would be gone. Monty’s newly recovered hope would vanish. She was distant from her friends, but knew about their struggles – her mom and Bellamy had taken turns filling her in.

Clarke wanted nothing more than to keep it quiet, even though she didn’t admit it to Bellamy. Being the one to bear the bad news, to set in play the next measures of survival, was a game all too familiar to her, and one she wanted to forget. Everyone had suffered so much already. What would this do to them?

As she glanced over at her mother, Bellamy, and Kane – all standing around the table in the Chancellor’s office – Clarke could tell that they were thinking the same thing as her. Their faces sported identical grim expressions that only deepened when Monty and Raven shuffled in nervously. Raven looked suspicious, her jaw set firmly, as though she was bracing herself for an explosion. Monty had a doe-eyed look of concern – he seemed to be hoping for the best, but inside was expecting the worse. Clarke swallowed.

Her mom was the one to break the news, this time, something that filled Clarke with a large amount of gratitude she didn’t know how to properly express. Clarke listened quietly as she spoke, relaying the warning of their impending doom in a calm manner resulting from years spent working with patients in the hospital wing back on the Ark. Throughout it all, Raven listened intently, her shoulders gradually slumping, and closing her eyes tightly. Monty, however, turned to stone. His eyes hardened and he drew his mouth into a taut, straight line. Clarke waited anxiously, her senses buzzing. She braced herself for the impact of his reaction, steeling herself so intensely that she didn’t realize it wasn’t coming until Monty stepped back, turned on his heel and marched out of the room without a word.

Clarke sucked in her breath and everyone’s heads snapped around to watch him leave. Instinctively, Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, who was staring out the open doorway. As if he felt her gaze, he turned to look back at her. She was struck by the tiredness in his eyes, but underneath the layer of fatigue she saw something else, an ember burning in his pupils. Determination.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bellamy told her decisively. “I can reach him.” He said this with hesitant confidence, and Clarke believed in him. As she watched him leave, heading after Monty, a feeling of gratitude rose in her chest, far from being the first time and – she knew – far from being the last.

When Clarke returned her attention to Raven, she found that in the time that had passed since Monty left the room and Bellamy went after him, the other girl’s face had turned from desolation to grim determination. Her eyes were lit, her lips tight, and if Clarke focused hard enough, she was convinced she would be able to hear the gears as they turned in Raven’s brain.

Raven fixed her with an intense stare. “So what’s your plan?”

Clarke swallowed. “You’re in?”

“I didn’t come this far and work my ass this hard just to watch humanity burn in a fiery explosion,” she responded. “I’m in. Whatever it takes.”

Clarke nodded, smiling half-heartedly. At least she could always depend on Raven to fight until the end. This world hadn’t extinguished the spark in her center – it continued to burn, even after everything. The thought offered her strength.

What was in Raven’s brain would save them all.

~ ~ ~

Bellamy found Monty in the bar. He was sitting at a table by himself, staring blankly at the jugs of moonshine all lined up on the counter, but he didn’t have a drink. Bellamy wondered if Monty was thinking about the early days on the ground, when he first concocted the substance that would lead to few and far-between moments of lightness around the camp, back before the Mountain Men turned up and changed everything. Bellamy, himself, could feel the temptation gnawing at his core to pour himself a drink and wash away all the memories, but it wasn’t why he was here, so he pushed the thought away.

When he approached Monty’s table, he took a seat and sat down across from the younger boy, not saying anything for a moment, letting the silence linger between them. The quiet emotion radiating off Monty was enough to serve as a reminder of his mission, of the impending doom awaiting them. Time was running out, he felt it with every passing hour, but still he waited. He waited until the tension grew unbearable, and the emptiness in Monty’s eyes became too painful.

“What are you thinking?” Bellamy asked slowly, carefully.

Monty glanced up at him, offering acknowledgement of Bellamy’s presence. “Do you think I could possibly be thinking about anything other than what you just told me?” His words held a note of bitterness, the tiniest amount of anger. Monty was always so collected, but Bellamy could sense the fuse preparing to blow.

“I guess not,” he sighed.

Monty didn’t say anything for another moment, then eventually his face broke into an expression of grief that cut into Bellamy’s chest. It was a feeling of hopelessness he recognized, it was the feeling he struggled to mask every day as he tried to appear strong, tried to support Clarke, tried to think of a way – any way – to stop mankind’s approaching fate.

“I’m thinking of Harper,” Monty breathed out quietly, his confession softening him. Bellamy suspected that had more to do with Harper than to do with him.

Bellamy nodded just barely. He knew the panic that Monty was feeling, the desperation: his need to have her at his side, to keep her safe. He’d felt that desperation for the past seventeen years. He felt it even more acutely now that Octavia was running through the woods somewhere, alone, with no idea what was awaiting her in six months. Only now it wasn’t just about Octavia. Bellamy had built a new family on the ground, and thinking of losing any more of it was too much to bear.

“You care about her.” _I know how that feels._

Monty nodded. “I thought …” He hesitated. “I hoped that we could build something. A future. That we could be more than just two kids fighting to survive day after day.”

“You still can,” Bellamy responded quickly, finding the words but not knowing if they were true. “Monty, with your help we can find a way to survive. This doesn’t need to be the end.”

Monty stared at him skeptically, but with the tiniest bit of hope in his eyes as well. “You believe that?”

Bellamy swallowed and met Monty’s gaze, holding eye contact. “I’m trying to.” He hardened his eyes. “I have to.”

As he leaned back in Bellamy’s chair, he felt his attention drifting from the person across from him and traveling to the chancellor’s office, where his thoughts took over. He could envision Clarke, standing there with Kane and Abby, talking to Raven, the tired, desperate look in her eye. He remembered the way she had stared at him before he left, how she appeared to be channeling all her desperation into him. She needed Monty to help, along with Raven. Along with the rest of them. This small hope held her together just barely.

But it was more than that. She looked like she’d been holding on to him, too. It still baffled him to think how it happened, how this girl he equated to being the epitome of privilege grew so close to him. He leaned on her, he needed her. And he knew that some part of her depended on him, as well.

Monty stared at Bellamy curiously, raising an eyebrow just slightly, so he barely made any movement at all. It felt like Monty could see into Bellamy’s thoughts, like he knew what he was thinking about even without giving any indication.

Maybe, Bellamy thought, he was like Monty. Maybe he was building toward something, too.

~ ~ ~

By the time Monty and Bellamy returned to the chancellor’s office, they found Clarke, Abby, Kane, and Raven surrounding the table, deep in conversation. The room was abuzz with new energy and when Bellamy saw the relieved look on Clarke’s face and the determined set of Raven’s shoulders, he immediately understood that Clarke had succeeded in convincing her of what they were doing. He released a sigh of tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and he and Monty joined them at the table. Clarke’s eyes met his from across the table and he saw something flare inside them, like a light turning on in a window: hope.

“What did we miss?” Monty asked, placing his hands in front of him, leaning. He looked up to the others, all staring at him with mixtures of recovered hope and anticipation. Bellamy had filled him in on their basic plan on the way to the office, but it was evident from the clashing of voices they heard when they walked in that other matters had taken place without them.

Kane and Clarke shared a look with each other that Bellamy couldn’t read. He saw Clarke gulp and stare down at her hands before letting out a breath and looking up to meet his eyes, the familiar glint of resolve that he knew meant her mind was made up on something – he just didn’t know what.

“We’ve decided that we should meet with the other Grounder ambassadors as soon as possible,” she forced out. Bellamy could tell that each word was a struggle for her, like she knew what his reaction would be even before he did. “Starting tomorrow.”

Silence ensued, and it seemed that everyone in the room was waiting for Bellamy to say something, anything.

“Tomorrow?” he managed to get out, disbelief coloring his words. “Without a plan? You’re just going to march up to the Grounder leaders and hope like hell that they’ll hand you a radiation cure?” He shook his head.

“We have a plan,” Kane jumped in. “It’s this. We’ve talked about it. There’s no time for something better. The timer on this planet is ticking and every moment we waste trapped inside these walls with no new advancements is another moment closer to the fate awaiting us in six months.” Kane’s words were careful, well thought-out. Bellamy realized, with a sinking in his chest, that Kane had predicted all his arguments before he’d even had a chance to voice them.  “By remaining in this camp any longer we limit our options. The trek to visit all the clans will take a few weeks, minimum. If we do it now, rather than later, we’ll allow ourselves ample time to prepare for the radiation, once we know how.”

“You seem awfully confident that the Grounders know a way out of this,” Bellamy snapped. He couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t stifle the feeling in his chest that their efforts would be fruitless, that their attempted meetings with the Grounders would bring nothing but war and death, only to result in nothing, just more bodies to add to the pile he carried on his shoulders wherever he went.

“Bellamy, we talked about this.” The tiredness in Clarke’s voice broke Bellamy out of his building frustration, and when he saw the pain in her eyes he immediately softened, letting the tension go in his shoulders and relaxing. “We don’t have any other options.”

So there it was. The harsh reality.

Bellamy knew she was right, he knew that this had to be done. He just couldn’t quite get a handle of the cold fear seeping into his veins, the pressing thoughts of what might happen … losing anyone else.

“How are you planning to even get close to all those Grounders without a guard detail? None of them even know about the radiation.”

Kane was prepared for this. “I’ll commission Sergeant Miller and Nate. We can trust them. Clarke and myself can handle a gun. That should be enough.” He seemed to be attempting to convince himself of this. “Besides, any more and we risk presenting ourselves as a threat.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bellamy interjected immediately, feeling the panic rising in his chest.

“No, you’re not,” Kane responded, infuriatingly calm. “You’re needed in Arkadia.”

“Like hell I am,” Bellamy felt himself losing control. “Abby is Chancellor pro tempore with you gone and there are plenty of guards. They won’t even feel my absence.”

“Actually,” Abby cut in, saying her first words since he’d reentered the room, “I’ll be very busy in med bay with all the wounded. Your help would be more than just appreciated – I’m going to need someone to keep the people together or this will never work out.”

Bellamy bit his tongue, defeated, and crossed his arms. He knew there were things neither Kane nor Abby were willing to admit: that they didn’t trust him near the Grounders, not after what he did to their army. They were afraid he would screw it up, doom them all, like he always did.

“Well then,” Kane said. “Since that’s settled, that should conclude our meeting. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning to discuss more details about the mission and keeping in contact. In the meantime, it’s best that we all get some rest while we can. It’s going to be a … strained couple of months. Take this time now, while you can.”

Everyone started to leave, excluding Monty, Bellamy, and Clarke, who remained at the table. Before the others could quite reach the door, Monty spoke up, “I’m telling Harper.”

Kane and Abby stopped in their tracks, turning to face him with a look of mild alarm. “Monty, you need to think about this,” Kane started, “The consequences of-”

“If you’re willing to tell Miller and his dad, you should be willing to tell Harper,” he jumped in. “We can trust her. And I can’t hold this back from her. It’s not fair.”

Kane sighed and nodded subtly, barely at all. Whether he wanted to argue or not, it didn’t matter. Anyone could see that Monty’s mind was made up, and he would tell her despite what anyone said, despite the consequences.

Bellamy wasn’t entirely certain what happened after: who left first, or when. And he didn’t care. All he cared about was that there was one person in the room besides him who still remained, and she was staring right at him, a look on her face that he couldn’t place. She seemed worried, exhausted, hopeful and … something else. Something he had seen in her eyes before when she looked at him, but nothing he could put a name to. Her eyes bore into his soul, burning at his insides, and he felt his cold exterior melt away.

“Bellamy …” she started, whatever she wanted to say trailing away into nothing. The words left unsaid hanging in the air between them.

She knew, he realized. She knew the real reason he couldn’t bear to remain behind in Arkadia while she made off into hostile territory, and it had nothing to do with being on that mission, being a guard. He wanted to be with her, to ensure that nothing ever happened to her. Not now. Not ever.

He couldn’t take that risk.

“I should be going with you,” Bellamy managed to get out, his words quieter now, less forceful now that they were alone.

“You’re needed here,” she managed, but Bellamy could tell that she was holding back, restraining herself. He saw the strain in her eyes, he knew she didn’t want to leave without him either.

“You sound like Kane.”

“Kane _trusts_ you.”

Bellamy scoffed. “ _Kane_ is just concerned that I’m going to snap and ruin everything. Don’t act like this has to do with anything besides keeping me kenneled up in Arkadia to be babysat while Mr. Chancellor isn’t around to do it himself.”

Clarke made her way around the table so that she was standing right next to him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her. “You weren’t there when we talked about this. He _does_ believe in you, Bellamy.”

Bellamy turned away, but she reached over to touch his arm, pulling him back to her. “The people out there, they follow you,” she said. “Maybe even more than Kane. They voted in Pike, they’ll listen to _you_.” She blinked and looked away, her voice softer now. “That’s why you need to stay.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything, taking it all in, thinking of more ways to further his argument.

He came up with nothing.

“Bellamy, talk to me.” Clarke’s voice had a hint of desperation now. She tugged gently on his arm.

“Don’t leave.” He turned to face her fully now, touching her hand where it was on his arm, as if to channel all his emotions into her. He needed her to see. He needed for her to understand that he couldn’t go on without her, couldn’t even consider the possibility.

“I have to,” her voice cracked.

“You don’t.” He knew he was losing traction but Bellamy couldn’t just stop trying. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if she walked through those gates, she wouldn’t return. Life was so uncertain in this world – anything could happen, any situation could change in an instant.

“I do,” she said softly. “I spent time in Polis, I witnessed Grounder culture. I’ve met the ambassadors. Kane and I are the best shot we have.”

His mouth felt dry but he knew deep down that she was right. She had to do this, and he had to stay. The human race depended on it. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow; the inside of his mouth felt like sand.

“Clarke, the world is ending in six months. I...” _I can’t lose you. I need you. I don’t want to die without you._

“I know.” Clarke’s words were so quiet now that no one who wasn’t as close to her as Bellamy could have possibly heard them, even if the room was crowded with people.

“I want to be there with you,” he breathed uselessly, knowing full well it wouldn’t change the situation in the slightest.

“Bellamy, if Trikru finds out who you are, they’ll kill you.” Tears were in her eyes now, highlighting the blue of her irises in a heartbreaking way. The tears had sprung up so fast that Bellamy hadn’t noticed them before, and he wondered how long they had been there, wondered what other unspoken emotions Clarke was burying.

“You don’t know that,” Bellamy told her after a moment of hesitation. He didn’t know if his words were true, but he knew what Clarke needed to hear.

“It’s not worth the risk. Not you.”

Clarke’s words echoed in Bellamy’s head. A memory was coming back to him, a memory that was burned in his head. _It’s worth the risk_. The emotionless stare, the hopeless feeling of watching her back as she turned away from him and didn’t look back, didn’t hesitate. The ice in her words had shaken him, bothered him more than he’d ever admitted.

But now … _It’s not worth the risk._ He wasn’t. Not to Clarke, not anymore.

Bellamy swallowed. “If you don’t come back …”

“I will,” she quickly jumped in, her voice full of so much conviction it was enough to almost quench his fears. “I always have.”

Bellamy stared into her eyes, filled with fire and ice and determination all at once, and he found himself nodding. Accepting. He would see her again; he had to.

Clarke reached down and grabbed his hand, giving him a tight squeeze of reassurance, and then she closed her eyes. She leaned forward and he found himself gravitating towards her as well, as though drawn by magnetic forces in their core. His lips hovered over the top of her temple, not touching her, his breath in her hair. The room was so silent, he could hear their heartbeats, in sync, beating as one.

For now, that would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for powering through that. :)
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts so, if you want to, feel free to drop me a message below.


End file.
